To Die Laughing
by LaRohaZeta
Summary: One average day in sixth year, the Marauders made a pact that they would leave the world with a smile on their faces. See how they keep their promises, even when they can no longer hold on to life. Shorty, 5 Ch. R&R, Please!
1. A Pact To Laugh

Hello everybody! This ficlet was been running through my mind for the pats couple of months, and I've finally been able to sit myself down and write it! Don't worry, though; it won't take away from Au Pair. This is a short one, only five chapters long, and each one describing a different Marauder's death. Yeah, I know, real cheery. Believe me, I get no satisfaction from writing out the demises of my favorite characters, but this is a story that I really wanted to tell. That's all, so, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** No way! You crazies!

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**April 9th, 1976**

**Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry**

The glorious sound of boys' laughter filled the untidy Gryffindor dorm room.

The room was built in the same way that all the other dormitories in Hogwarts were; it was a pentagonal room with a four-poster bed against each wall, a circular open space in the middle, and a bathroom near the entrance. A small curtained window opposite the door seemed to be the only bit of wall that wasn't covered with Quidditch posters, letters, and pictures of curvaceous models from _Wizards Quarterly._ Upon the wooden floor, there were heaps of dirty laundry, open books, and candy wrappers left or tossed there unceremoniously by their owners. One could also find an occasional magical object lying around, like the shiny golden Secrecy Sensor buried half under an old magazine, or that upside-down cauldron forgotten under one of the beds.

In short, it was obviously a room belonging to five teenage wizards.

Now, four boys sauntered casually into the room, three of whom were laughing. The other was looking extremely grumpy, and seemed to be covered in some sort of brown paste.

One of the snickers was loud and boisterous, sounding eerily like a dog's bark. Another of the laughs consisted of a series of quiet chuckles, as if the owner was laughing at someone, but ever politely so. The last chortle was a sort of desperate howl, almost begging for attention. Together, the boys' laughter made up a choir of amusement, a breathless ringing that almost made a passerby want to start laughing, themselves.

The dog-laugher, shaking with hilarity, collapsed on his back one of the four-posters, his arms spread wide. The polite one sat gingerly on the edge of another bed, next to the dog's, and proceeded to wipe the tears of mirth from his eyes. The desperate howler sat on the floor, leaning against a different bed, and was rolling while laughing his head off. The fourth, unamused boy, dripping in that dark, watery substance, sat on the floor across from him, rolling his eyes and grabbing a pillow to hid his red face.

"I…can't believe it…that's the worst one yet, James!" The dog boy choked out in-between bursts of laughter.

"Sirius, shut up!" James, a messy-haired boy of sixteen, removed the pillow from his face long enough to snap at his best friend.

"Oh, I don't blame him. It was hilarious, Prongs!" The small 'desperate' boy called Peter shook his head, grinning. It seemed he had finally finished with rolling around on the floor.

James glared at Peter, and he instantly backed down. The other, polite boy took his defense. "Come now, James. Be reasonable. You're forgetting it _is_ the sixty-eighth time Evans has turned you down." He bit his bottom lip to hold back an erupting snigger.

"Sixty-ninth, Moony!" Sirius corrected from the other side of the room. James threw the pillow at Sirius' head in response. This pushed Peter into a fresh stream of laughter, and he commenced his rolling on the floor, wrapping his arms around his chest, hugging himself.

Sirius tossed the pillow back at James, who dropped it on the bed behind him. "Seriously, though. Why won't Lily Evans just go out with me? She acts like she's _repulsed _by me! And she didn't have to throw her dessert at me, either!" James added angrily.

"And such a _waste_ of chocolate pudding." Sirius said mournfully, shaking his head dramatically.

James grabbed a handful of the brown stuff off of his robes and threw it at his friend's face. It caught him square in the nose, and splattered across his cheeks and forehead. Drops even slid down the front of his shirt. "There." James spat with an evil smile on his face. "It matches your sense of humor."

"What, dark? Me? As if." Sirius smirked, and wiped the pudding off of his face and into his fist. He made a motion as if to throw it back at James, but turned at the last moment towards Peter, who was still rolling. The pudding blob flew through the air and landed in the boy's ear.

"Eeeeww, Sirius! That's disgusting! My mum's gonna kill me if I get anything on these new robes!" Peter moaned, ending his rolling at once. He made to toss the pudding back at Sirius, but his aim was so poor, it hit Remus instead.

That was the beginning of a noble and splendid food fight, which ended only after each boy was covered in chocolate pudding and his ammo had run out. Exhausted and laughing again, the dubbed 'Marauders' fell back onto the floor, panting and flicking remaining bits of pudding at each other's faces.

"Merlin…I could die laughing!" Sirius stated after a while with a content sigh.

"Why don't you, then?" Remus joked.

"No, really, why don't we?" James exclaimed, sitting up, eyes wide and glistening. The Marauders looked at each other. James only ever got that look in his eye when he had a really good prank idea, or a new plan on how to get Lily Evans to go out with him.

"Prongs?" Peter asked cautiously. "Did you swallow too much pudding or something?"

James smacked him on the arm. "No, I mean, why don't we all die laughing? Not right now, I mean. Obviously. But when we do…I'm just saying, it seems like the best way to go."

Remus looked at James sideways. It was quite a conversation turn, their deaths, yet there was something about the way his friend was talking that made him want to listen. "Go on."

Sirius was looking at Remus as if he thought he belonged in St. Mungo's. James continued on, apparently not noticing.

"Well, I think we should make a pact. I think we should all die laughing. We've done it most of our lives, so it seems like a pretty good way to…to seal the deal, don't you think?" James still had a crazy glint in his eyes as he turned to face his friends. "Well?"

Sirius shrugged. "You're right, I guess. Yeah, why not? I can see it now: There I'll be, lying on my enormous deathbed with my supermodel wife by my side, holding my hand." He began spectacularly. "Sirius Junior and Supermodel Junior will be on the other side, crying quietly as they take their last look of their aging, yet still dashingly handsome father. And then, the time will come, when death will knock on my door. I'll close my eyes, take my last breath, and utter those final words…" He paused suspensefully.

"What will they be?" Peter whispered, wide-eyed. He'd been hanging on Sirius' every word.

"Damn Prong and his bloody pacts!" Sirius shouted and grinned, causing Peter to scream.

Remus tried to speak over Sirius' stream of laughter. "I think it's a good idea. Let's make a pact. To laugh."

Peter, who had recovered from Sirius' story, agreed. Sirius grinned and nodded.

"Okay, but we have to do this right. Where's the map?" He looked around the room.

"Here, Padfoot. I have it." Remus grabbed a rolled up parchment from his bedside table and handed it to Sirius. He unrolled it and nodded to James, who seemed to know what to do.

"Alright, how about we all put our hands on the map, and swear that we will die laughing?" James suggested, sticking his hand out.

"Shall we light candles, or something?" Sirius asked in mock-seriousness.

James rolled his eyes. "No thank you, Padfoot. But afterwards, if you'd like, we could try and see if all that oil on Snivillus will burn up." He suggested nonchalantly. Peter cheered.

"James." Remus said warningly, always with him unless someone was going to be really hurt.

"Only joking, Moony! Besides, we wouldn't want to scorch that beautifully furnished Slytherin common room, now would be?" He pondered sarcastically.

All four boys reached out their wands and tapped the smooth surface of the Marauders Map. At once, a sort of warmth spread throughout their fingers.

"_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!" _Their voices cried in unison. The map glowed, and inky lines spread out across its surface, and an exact and detailed sketch of Hogwarts grew before them. The boys smiled proudly at their creation. Their genius amazed even them sometimes.

"What should we say?" Peter asked James after a while.

The black-haired boy thought. It would have to be something simple, yet something meaningful, as it had to do with all of their fates. "How about, 'I solemnly swear that I will die laughing'?" He put up this idea to his friends.

After a few moments' consideration, Moony, Wormtail, and Padfoot nodded. Each touching a corner of the map with their wand hand, the Marauders smiled at each other and stated loudly and clearly:

"_I solemnly swear that I will die laughing!"_

They waited, mouths open, as if they thought something big was going to happen. Finally, Sirius spoke.

"Well, it doesn't look as if my supermodel is going to pop out of there. Why don't we close it up, then?" He grinned and rolled up the map, not before speaking, "Mischief managed!"

"So _that's_ what we were waiting for!" Remus pretended to be shocked.

"Interesting." James pondered. "I thought Evans was going to come out and apologize to me. Of course, she would suddenly realize how wrong she'd been, and would discover her passionate love for me. Then we would-"

"Please, James, not in front of the children!" Sirius gestured to Peter.

Peter narrowed his eyes at Sirius, and spoke haughtily, "Well, I thought that my mum would appear with some new robes for me!" This was greeted with silence, and a retching noise from James.

"Ew, Peter." Remus shook his head. Sirius had joined James in making his vomiting sounds.

"What?" Asked a thoroughly bewildered Peter. The superior manner was gone immediately. "It was our greatest wishes, right?"

Sighing, Remus closed his eyes, blocking out the sounds of Sirius and James's comments.

"Ugh…Peter and Mrs. Pettigrew…so gross…"

"The images! The images!"

Eventually, they stopped, and Peter was left confused and upset on the dormitory floor. "I still don't get it…"

"Hey, who wants to see if Evans wants some of her desert back?" James asked excitedly, not wanting to discuss Peter and his mother anymore.

"I'm in!" Sirius stood up, and Remus followed. Of course, Peter tagged along after the boys, and together, they left their room, leaving behind a messy room, a map, and a pact. A pact that they would keep forever, in the back of their minds, buried beneath Quidditch stats and notes about Milton the Magnificent. A pact that would join them as brothers, even as they died. A pact to laugh.

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So, what do you all think? Do you absolutely hate it? Please review and let me know! Remember, I love you!

LaRohaZeta


	2. Thoughts In Green

Well, I've been getting mostly good feedback for this story, so I'm going to continue! Thanks for the reviews, everyone.

Okay, first one down- James Potter. Don't act surprised, you knew he would be the first to go! This is going to be a difficult scene to write, but I'll do my best.

**Disclaimer:** The Marauders aren't mine. If they were, do you actually think I would kill them off?

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**Halloween- October 31st, 1981 **

**Godric's Hallow**

It rained all the time in eastern England, but there were rarely any thunderstorms at this time of year.

CRASH! 

_Cackle…cackle…_

The sleeping baby boy named Harry Potter awoke to the sound of thunder, with heavy blinding bolts of lightning shining in his eyes, gleaming in through the window he was facing. His young parents, James and Lily Potter, came running into Harry's nursing room when they heard his screams of fright.

"Shhh, Harry, calm down. Shhh, don't worry; Mommy and Daddy are right here. Shhh." A drained Lily Potter reached into the crib that they kept in the center of the room and lifted the baby into her arms, whispering words of comfort in an attempt to get him to go back to sleep.

"Here, Lils, want me to take him?" James Potter, not the mischievous boy he was at sixteen but a much more mature twenty-year-old father, reached out his arms for his son. "There, Harry. Quiet now. Be good, mommy's tired. She needs her beauty sleep, or else she looks like an old hag."

Well, not _that_ much more mature.

"James!" Lily lightly slapped her husband on the arm. "Don't listen to him, Harry," she advised, cradling the baby. "Daddy doesn't know what he's talking about. As usual."

"Hey!"

"Come Harry, it's about time you get back to bed." Lily took him back from James' indignant hands. She gently lowered the crying baby into the crib and rested him on his side. But Harry wouldn't stop yelling.

"There's no way he's going to sleep through this storm. Why don't we all go downstairs until it's over? Might relax him a bit." James suggested.

The Potters walked down the stairs together, with James in the lead and Lily carrying Harry behind him. They went into the large living room and James pulled the curtains down so that Harry wouldn't have to look at the lightning. But the baby still wouldn't stop crying.

"It's the thunderstorm, I think." James deduced tiredly. "He's scared."

Lily sighed. "Sirius was always good at calming him down. I wish we could see him." She flinched as a particularly loud burst of thunder erupted from the sky, sending Harry into another spasm of fear.

_**CRASH!**_

"I do too, but we'll have to do what we can without him. We should probably just stay with Harry until he falls back asleep, or until the storm is through." James fell back onto a couch, and patted the spot next for him for Lily to sit.

Smiling, she did, and lowered her self and Harry down onto the sofa. Lily snuggled against James, and he rested his arm around her. At the sight of his parents looking so calm, Harry quieted a little. The family didn't speak for a while, just content with sitting there.

"Are you scared, James?" Lily asked quietly, after about five minutes. The question startled James, who had been used to the growing silence.

"I've been through a couple of storms in my time, Lily. This one isn't much worse." He gave his answer lightly, but he knew her real meaning.

"No, I mean," she sat up a little to look him in the eyes, "Are you scared for Harry? For us?" There was a slight quiver in her usually strong, valiant voice.

James hesitated before answering Lily. He didn't want to scare her, but he didn't want to lie, either. "I'm not scared for us. We've been too close to death before this to be afraid of it now." He paused again. "But, am I scared for Harry? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

Lily nodded, and lay back against him. "Me too. He's too young." Lily shivered suddenly, and James tightened his arms around him. There was no point in carrying on this depressing discussion if it was going to make his wife sick with worry.

"Do you remember the day Harry was born?" He asked her, to move on to a more cheerful subject.

"No, I don't, James." Lily replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Well, I do." He ignored her. "Do you remember what you said to me, right after he came out?"

Lily thought, and then shook her head. "Sorry. The Healer had me down with so many potions; I'm surprised I _remembered_ that I was having a baby."

James laughed. "Well, I'll refresh your memory. You told me that Harry was all the family we'd ever need. You never looked so happy as you did on that day."

Lily was silent for a long while. James tapped her after several minutes to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep.

"Ow!"

"Sorry. Thought you'd dozed off again."

"No." Lily squirmed a little. "I was thinking."

"About?"

"About…how unfair it would be…if all that was for nothing." She paused. "D'you know what I mean?"

Yes, he knew what she meant. He knew exactly what she meant. Lily was terrified for Harry, much more than she had let on. James twisted his face to keep tears from falling. Lily's vague, yet somehow blunt way of expressing her worries made him feel almost as if it _was_ all for nothing. Going into hiding. Switching their Secret-Keeper so that no one would notice the change. Isolating their friends and distancing themselves from those who could help them.

But looking down at his son's face, James felt a muscle tighten in his heart. How could it all be for nothing? How could such a sweet, precious thing not be worth all they efforts they had taken to save him?

"We'll be fine. Peter will fine. And most importantly, Harry will be fine." James reassured his wife in a firm, sure voice. He knew he was right, but James Potter was not the type of man who would think otherwise.

Harry gave a tiny yawn in his lap, and James realized that he was about to fall asleep again. Acknowledging that he and Lily should do the same, he picked the small boy up and lifted him onto his shoulder, intending to carry him back upstairs.

Very unexpectedly, Harry started crying again. It was worse this time, though - _much_ worse. He was kicking and screaming, pounding his tiny fists against James' back and making more noise than he had ever had. James almost dropped his son after the sudden change in mood, but caught himself at the last moment. He brought the baby up to his face and clearly, directly, ever-so calmly, asked him, "Harry, what's the matter?"

His question was answered, not by Harry, but by a noise from outside. _Footsteps, _James thought instinctively. But their house was invisible to anyone but the Secret-Keeper, and Peter would have called before coming…

The horrible, heart-stopping, dizzying reality hit James like brick to the face.

o-o

"Lily! It's him! Take Harry and run!" James shouted, thrusting Harry into Lily's arms.

Lily gasped, and James could practically see the dozens of emotions flash in the light of her emerald-green eyes. "But…James -!" She gripped his arm.

"No, Lily, we talked about this!" James yelled over the sound of their front door being smashed down. "You run, and I'll hold him off!"

Lily hesitated, as if she were about to argue, but decided against it. She leaned into him and gave him one last, desperate kiss.

"I love you, James."

"And I love you, Lily." He kissed Harry on the forehead, and sent them off running up the staircase.

James turned in time to see the – unfortunately - familiar pale face of Lord Voldemort. Red slits glared at him from an uncomfortable distance of two yards.

"James Potter…we meet again." Voldemort taunted in that eerily high-pitched voice, his wand held out in front of him.

James drew his own wand so quickly; he thought he had given himself whiplash. _Not that it will matter in a few seconds,_ James thought gloomily. _No! _He scolded himself mentally. _You have to last longer than that, Potter! You have to give Lily and Harry time to escape!_

"I see you've ruined my door during your grand entrance, Tom. It doesn't surprise me, though. You always did have a thing for theatrics." James jeered at him. _Yes, annoying him would definitely buy some time._

Voldemort's face contorted with anger. "You dare to mock me, boy? You dare to call me by that name? That was my Muggle pig of a father's name. Swine, that's what he was." Voldemort's expression became amused. "Very similar to your Mudblood wife. Maybe, when I'm through with you, I'll have a little fun with her. Though I doubt she'll enjoy it very much, what with that child having to watch." He sneered evilly.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!" James bellowed, boiling with such strong rage that he had never felt before. He shot a Stunner at Voldemort. He blocked it easily, and threw a Cruciatus Curse at James, who dodged it.

"Very good, Potter, very good. Dumbledore has taught you well." Voldemort taunted, wand still at the ready. "But I suppose if Dumbledore had taught you better, you would have thought to protect your family a bit more carefully."

The color in James' face drained. He knew what that meant. "How – how did you get it out of Peter? What did you do to him?" James demanded, even though he didn't know why he had even bothered with the question. It was obvious that Voldemort had tortured Peter until he had given up their location.

But Voldemort laughed. "What did I do to Wormtail? I rewarded him, of course! Just as I reward all of my _most loyal servants_." He exaggerated the last three words.

James couldn't believe what he was hearing. He wouldn't believe it. How could _Peter_ have handed them over to Voldemort? It wasn't true; it couldn't be true! Peter Pettigrew, his friend, his brother, his fellow Marauder, had betrayed him? Betrayed Lily? Betrayed _Harry_?

"You're lying!" James hissed, wand hand trembling. He needed to hear more.

Voldemort just laughed his horrible laugh. "Certainly not, Potter! Wormtail came to me a year ago, begging for protection. He was willing to do almost anything to live. Of course, I shared his feelings in that regard. That was the main reason that I didn't kill him right then.

"I gave him small jobs at first, things he couldn't screw up. Spying, passing over information, for instance, from Dumbledore's resistance force. But then, when he told me of this Prophecy, I gained a new respect for him. _Maybe there is more to this weak, untalented excuse for wizard than meets the eye,_ I remember thinking. And I was proven correct when he came to me, not two weeks ago, with news that he could hand over little baby Harry Potter, and his parents with him." Voldemort crooned, flourishing his wand.

James recovered quickly, surprising himself. "You'll have to get through me to get to Harry!" He straightened himself up and backed away to stand protectively in front of the staircase. He could hear Harry crying from upstairs, and Lily's voice trying frantically to soothe him.

"That should prove easier than you think, Potter." Voldemort was muttering curses before James knew it. Taken by surprise, he formed a shield around his body, not having time to cast any spells himself.

They bounced off the invisible barrier. Streaks of color flew off into various directions, one of which hitting the living room sofa and blasting it apart. Wads of cushioning hit Voldemort from behind, and he turned, probably thinking it was something more threatening.

James took the opportunity to cast another Stunner at Voldemort, and a complicated jinx that he had learned from Lily. The Stunner missed, but the jinx hit Voldemort square in the chest. He was taken over by a succession of convulsions. He threw the jinx off before it got too damaging, though, and emerged looking more annoyed than he had before.

"Tsk, tsk, Potter. You just won't behave, will you? Maybe this will put you in your place. _Crucio!"_ James barely had time to think, let alone block it somehow. So he jumped.

o-o

As he flew through the air, James was struck by a memory, a memory of four boys lounging on the floor of their dorm room with their wand hands covering a parchment. They were making a promise to each other. James grinned as he hit the hard wooden floor of the entranceway. At least he now knew what to do.

o-o

The red jet of wand light had missed him by mere centimeters. James knew he wouldn't be so lucky in the near, _near_ future.

He stood up, shakily, but still standing sure all the same. His fear was gone, as was his willingness to continue the duel. Looking Voldemort directly in the eyes, he said calmly and surely, "Is that the best you can do, Tom?" And he did the worst possible thing that anyone could do in the presence of Lord Voldemort: James laughed openly at him.

Enraged, Voldemort hissed at him again. "Let's end this now, Potter. _Avada Kedavra!"_

o-o

The approaching beam of green light was coming closer, illuminating the living room with a deathly glow.

o-o

_Lily's eyes are that color,_ James thought peacefully.

o-o

_So are Harry's._

o-o

He was still laughing when the green light hit him.

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Ahhh! I'm bawling like a big baby! Sobs uncontrollably.

I really don't know _how_ I'm going to do this three more times without going insane! But do you know what will make me feel better? A nice long review!

LaRohaZeta


	3. The Loudest Laugh

Alas, so comes the hardest chapter for me to write – and, interestingly, the least entertaining one for you all to read. I guess this is because it was in the book already, and you know what happens. Still, it'll be from Sirius' perspective instead of Harry's, which should be something.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, why on earth would I kill off my favorite character?

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**June 20th, 1996**

**The Noble And Most Ancient House Of Black**

The late Mrs. Cassiopeia Black, had she not been long since dead, would have been mortified to have seen the current occupants of her dreary house in London.

Lucky for her (and most unfortunate for everyone else in the house), Mrs. Black's death didn't stop her from making a racket. Her hatred of anyone not _pure_ enough lived on through her ill-tempered portrait, hung steadfastly on the wall in the parlor of the Noble And Most Ancient House of Black.

Sirius Black, Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin had done everything they could have possible done to shut up the screaming painting, and not until their female member had thrown her shoe at the old woman, shocking her out of her tantrum long enough for the men to heave the curtains closed, had they made any progress.

Exhausted and weary, the party of five had collapsed onto the Blacks' living room sofa and hadn't moved for nearly a half hour. Sirius had summoned Butterbeers for everyone from the cellar kitchen, so they were quite content where they were, drinking and talking about old times.

"…and so, then, Moony, he finds this brilliant spell to make old Snivellus' hair turn orange – bloody genius, by the way –"

Remus bowed his head and pretended to blush.

"And we got out of the Slytherin common room just in time; the git never even knew we'd been there until the next morning at breakfast!" Sirius finished to a round of laughter.

"That's…hilarious…!" Tonks choked out in between snorts.

"Excellent strategic planning, I have to say," Moody smiled slightly, which looked a bit sinister, and sent his magical eye dancing in its socket.

"Yes, we _were_ good," Remus admitted sheepishly.

"We were the best!" Sirius grinned proudly.

"And so modest, too," Kingsley said sarcastically in a booming voice, raising an eyebrow at Sirius. Sirius put his hands up in front of him, the universal sign for _'touché'._

Suddenly, the fireplace in front of them, which had been abandoned for the summer, started up in flames. But these weren't ordinary flames – emerald green fire appeared in the hearth, followed by a head. _What is Snivellus doing in my fire? And such good timing, too._

"What do _you_ want, Snape?" Sirius narrowed his eyes at his enemy.

"There's been a…disturbance here," Snape informed them in silky hushed tones.

"What has happened, Severus?" Remus looked alarmed.

Snape looked at him carefully before answering. "Potter had another vision this afternoon, during his O.W.L. tests. He seems to think that Black has been kidnapped by the Dark Lord and taken to the Department of Mysteries."

A silence passed.

"Well, I haven't." Sirius told him bluntly.

"Obviously, Black," Snape hissed. "Excuse me for being so dim as to think that you would understand the problem at hand."

Tonks interrupted before Sirius had a chance to reply. "If you don't mind telling us, Snape, what exactly _is_ the 'problem at hand'?"

Snape paused. "I was alerted of this vision two hours ago. No one has seen Potter and his friends since."

A horrible, long silence filled the room, only broken by Sirius swearing.

"SHIT!"

He grabbed his wand off the table and bolted up. "We have to go find them! They must be in the Department of Mysteries, it's just like Harry to want to rush into action when he thinks someone's in trouble…"

Kingsley rolled his eyes. "That's a bit hypocritical of you, don't you think?" but he got up too. The rest of the group followed as well.

"Just a moment, Black." Snape called from the fireplace, as the group was getting ready to leave.

"What?" Sirius asked roughly, turning towards his head.

"Perhaps it would be better if you stayed here. Dumbledore will need someone at headquarters to tell him what has happened." Snape sneered.

Sirius scowled. "Not a chance! My godson is in trouble and I'm going to get him out of it!"

Snape glared back at him. "Well, I suggest you find someone to do it." With that, he vanished.

Sirius looked around wildly. "Kreacher!" He bellowed, and the bedraggled house-elf appeared a moment later.

"Master calls, Master wants Kreacher, but Master will not be able to call Kreacher much longer, oh no, Kreacher knows, yes, Kreacher knows about Master and the Dark Lord's plans…" He muttered, taking a flimsy bow.

Sirius ignored his ramblings. There were more important things on mind at that moment. "Kreacher, tell Dumbledore when he gets here that Remus, Tonks, Kingsley, Mad-Eye, and I went to the Ministry of Magic to help Harry. Got that? Good. Now wait here for him." With that, Sirius Apparated away to the Atrium.

Four popping noises around him told him that his companions had joined him in the extravagant marble hall. "Kingsley, Tonks, you probably know the place a lot better than I remember. Lead the way."

The tall black wizard and the pink-haired witch led the group into a lift and down to the ninth floor, across a foreboding stone corridor, and through an open wooden door. After that, Sirius wasn't sure where he was going. He was aware of nothing except the blood rushing through his body and Harry's face swimming in front of him. James would have killed him for allowing something like this to happen.

Kinglsey banged open two double doors. Sirius was stunned for a second at the room that they had entered – it looked like some sort of ancient Roman tournament bleacher, with stone steps running all the way around. Sirius' gaze was drawn to the center of the room, where almost a dozen hooded Death Eaters had surrounded Harry and Neville Longbottom. The scene abruptly brought Sirius back to reality.

"_Stupefy!"_ Tonks cried from next to him. It missed its target – Lucius Malfoy – but it distracted the Death Eaters from the boys, at any rate.

A battle initiated. Curses and hexes flew from both parties, most of them dark or Unforgivable. They were outnumbered, Sirius saw this right away, as two Death Eaters ganged on him and started firing off Stunners. Sirius dodged them all, and managed to return a few. Most missed, but one was right on target.

_One down,_ Sirius thought. _Too many to go._

The other Death Eater scampered to the other side of the room, and started dueling with Kingsley. Another one joined them soon after, and the Auror was fighting off two at once. Sirius searched the room for more. There – in the center of the room, a very short Death Eater jumped off of the dais and barreled towards him.

"_Collaportus!"_ Sirius yelled, and the Death Eater was lifted off his feet and slammed back into the dias. His head hit the stone with a sickening crack and he fell down, unconscious.

Another Death Eater charged at him, this time not pausing to come within his range to fire a spell. _"Appendus Wavio!"_ The Death Eater hissed. Sirius dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms, ducking the unfamiliar dark spell. But his attacker wasn't ready to give up.

_"Appen-"_

"_PROTEGO!"_ Sirius screamed before the Death Eater had finished his curse. It rebounded back towards him, and the wizard shrieked in agony before collapsing to the floor. Sirius shuddered. He would _not_ have liked to have been hit by that.

Sirius heard a yell, and looked over to his left. Neville had just jabbed a Death Eater in the eye with his wand. The Death Eater howled, and Harry Stunned him.

Movement to his right caught Sirius' eye. Mad-Eye had lost his duel, it seemed, and the Death Eater he had been fighting started towards Harry with his wand outstretched, looking like he could kill.

_Not on my watch._

Sirius ran towards him and slammed the Death Eater with his shoulder. His hood fell, revealing his twisted, pale face – Dolohov.

Dolohov stumbled, but rose and faced Sirius. "_Crucio"_ He cried, and Sirius blocked it. The spell bounced off his shield and upwards toward the ceiling.

"_Stupefy!"_ Sirius tried, but Dolohov hurried out of the way.

He made some sort of slashing movement with his wand. Sirius couldn't figure out what it was in time to block it, and stood there limply.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_ Harry yelled from behind him, and Dolohov's limbs snapped together, causing him to topple over onto his back.

"Nice one!" Sirius told Harry approvingly. He shoved his godson's head down to avoid a pair of red Stunners. "Now I want you to get out of –"

A jet of green light that zoomed towards him interrupted him. Sirius ducked, and the spell hit the wall behind him. He looked up again in time to see Tonks fall down the stone steps and his cousin Bellatrix run back towards the muck of the fight.

"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!" Sirius yelled. He ran over to Bellatrix, to finish Tonks' fight.

He met her halfway across the room, on top of the stone dais. _"Stupefy!"_ Sirius bellowed over the sounds of others dueling around them.

Bellatrix moved smoothly out of the way and smiled cruelly at him. "Dear cousin, it's been too long," she drawled scathingly.

"Oh, yes. I'm sure we both miss those glorious Azkaban days terribly." Sirius shot back bitterly, ducking her Cruciatus. "Tell me, how has the prison been fairing without me?"

"I wouldn't know, would I, Sirius? My master freed me from that hideous place months ago. _Impedimenta!"_

"_Protego! _Yes, that's right, I remember reading about it in the newspaper. Only – funny thing – most people seemed to be under the impression that _I_ was the one who freed you from Azkaban. Can you believe that?" Sirius conjured darts from his wand that flew towards Bellatrix.

She waved her wand and the darts changed their course and soared in a different direction. "Such an insult to my master, not to mention his loyal followers," Bellatrix hissed, furious.

"Oh, poor Voldemort, I imagine he's crying in his room over it right now." Sirius moved out of the way of her Killing Curse. "I seem to have angered you, Bella. Was it something I said?" Sirius dully noted a change of atmosphere in the room – much of the fighting seemed to have ceased for some reason, but he didn't take his eyes off of Bellatrix.

"You dare play games with me, Black?" Bellatrix sneered, and shot a stunner at him.

Sirius ducked, and laughed mockingly. "Come on, you can do better than that!" He heard his voice and laughter echo through the silent hall.

o-o

His friends had always told him that he had the loudest laugh they had ever heard. _That's funny. Why am I thinking about the Marauders at a time like this?_

o-o

"_Stupefy!"_ Bellatrix shrieked, red light flooded Sirius' vision. He felt the spell course through his body, and a soft cloth touch his skin a moment later, and then – nothing.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I'm sorry, I really couldn't bring myself to go all out with this death. But I'll make up for it with Peter's, I promise. And you can all cheer… I know Dumbledore said that the Order used better a communication method than Floo, but I didn't have enough time to think of a better one. Sorry… Also, _'Appendus Wavio'_ is a spell I made it up. It basically means 'twisting organs' very loosely in Latin, which is probably extremely painful and sounded pretty Dark to me.

Please review!

LaRohaZeta


	4. Beyond Tears

So, here's the only chapter that everyone was looking forward to! I'm sorry about all the long breaks in this fic, but ya'll have to cut me a little slack – I'm writing about the Marauders' deaths! It SUCKS! Don't think for a second that I'm enjoying this. I just have to get it out, that's all.

Warning! This chapter is horribly gruesome. Most of all the nasty bits are implied, however, so I'm leaving it up to your imaginations.

**Disclaimer:** The poem in the beginning is C.C. Moore's. And, as always, the Marauders are not mine. If I were Jo, this death would have happened a long time ago…

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Christmas Eve – December 24th, 1997**

**Unknown Location**

_Twas' the night before Christmas_  
_When all through the house  
__Not a creature was stirring  
__Not even a mouse_

But a plump gray rat was making its way down a vacant corridor in the far wing of the castle.

This castle was not at all like the warm, cheery one where the rat had lived for over ten years. The aforementioned castle was dark and large. Ironically, so was the group that now used it as their headquarters – Dark, and large, in numbers anyway.

The corridor was freezing, so the rat sped up. It hoped that by moving faster, it could warm itself. Luckily for the rat, it had a very healthy-sized diet, and a nice think layer of blubber to keep itself protected from the chilly winter air.

When the rat came to a much wider, much better lit passageway, it stopped. To anyone who didn't understand what it was doing, it would have seemed as if the rat were melting. In fact, it was doing quite the opposite – the rat was growing, into a fat and balding thirty-seven year old man named Peter Pettigrew.

Peter continued the rat's pace, almost as if he had never stopped to change forms. At the end of the passageway he found a brightly torch lit room; wide, massive, filled with cloaked figures standing around in a circle. In the middle of the ring was a tall, imposing figure in a thick cloak, face not visible under his heavy hood.

Peter entered the room and waited for the central figure to acknowledge him from the doorway.

"Ah, Wormtail," the high, cold voice drawled from the center of the room. "Did you complete your search of the eastern wing?"

"Yes, my Lord." Peter responded. "I found no sign of strange activity."

The dark lord called Voldemort nodded in approval. "Very good. We can begin the meeting now." A slight shift in the Death Eaters' stance showed that they had been waiting for this for some time.

"For those of you who are not living with us, you will be pleased to know that the final stages in the transformation of this castle into our center of operations are almost complete. There is only one real complication – the guarding of the outside walls from intruders. Protection spells are certainly not my area of expertise, so if anyone has any suggestions, they will be most welcome."

There was a silence, and one of the Death Eaters offered, "There's the Fidelius Charm."

Voldemort was quiet. "Who are you who suggests this? Come forward." A slumped figure stumbled towards him, obviously shaking.

"_Crucio_." Voldemort had whipped out his wand before the poor soul could take a shuddering breath. His screams echoed off the cold stone walls.

"You fool," Voldemort hissed softly when the torture was over. "To so arrogantly remind me of the night of my downfall! And what a completely absurd suggestion it was. Who would be my Secret-Keeper? Wormtail?" He laughed coldly. "He's already proven that – although loyal to our side – he cannot be placed under such weighty responsibility."

"Master! I would gladly accept –" Peter began, shocked.

"No Wormtail; I would trust no one with such valuable information as the location of the very heart of my organization. The subject is closed for now, and if anyone has another – _better _– idea, they should speak to me in private.

"My next matter is of a somewhat lighter topic. As you all know, our dear friend Lucius has returned to us from Azkaban," he gestured to the Death Eater standing at his right. "Lucius is the first _non-Animagus_ to escape from the prison. It is a thrilling tale, but I will allow Lucius to explain it himself."

Peter fixed his eyes on Malfoy. The escape of the Dark Lord's former right-hand man was very big news indeed. He wondered why no one had bothered to tell him.

Malfoy stepped forward and began to speak to the Death Eaters in his smooth, haughty voice. "I must first say that the abandonment of the prison by the Dementors has helped me a great deal, although it still wasn't easy. I was in Azkaban for a year and a half, always planning my escape. I was hungry to return to my master. I kept constant watch on the food circulation, tried to learn as much as I could about the guards – anything that could assist me in my plans.

"About two weeks ago, my opportunity finally came. A young Ministry wizard came for a routine check on the prison. When he came to my cell, I tricked him into approaching the bars. I overpowered him, stole his wand, freed myself, and killed him. I also killed the entrance guards on my way out. I stole the Ministry wizard's boat, which he had used to get to the island. With the assistance of magic, I was able to reach shore in a few hours. By making connections through certain trustworthy people, I was able to locate this castle a week ago and return to the Dark Lord's service."

Peter glared enviously at Malfoy. It would have taken him a lot of nerve to risk that a successful, clean escape from Azkaban would win him back favor with the Dark Lord. _But it worked,_ Peter admitted grudgingly. Malfoy's risk had paid off, and he had obviously scored a few points with their master. Of course, he wasn't getting his old affection back anytime soon – not after the Department of Mysteries fiasco. No, Severus Snape had filled the second-in-command position. But Malfoy would get what would come to him.

Peter shook himself a little. Why did he care so much about Malfoy? He should be worrying more about himself. After the Dark Lord had returned to his body, Peter had been basically shunned by his master. Without his daily feeding and strengthening potions, the Dark Lord hadn't been able to find much use for Peter. He was weak, a mediocre dueler, and not very intelligent. Not to mention the fact that the wizarding world believed him to be dead.

But that had all changed last year, when the Ministry had finally acknowledged the Dark Lord's return. All of a sudden, there had been so much to do in such a short amount of time. Peter was given a steady role to assist Snape, who had been gradually growing more influential in the Death Eater rank. It had not been a pleasant job – more than once, Peter had to bite back a 'Snivillus' joke – but now the Dark Lord had promoted him to a position in guarding the new fortress.

Peter looked back at his master. With a jolt, he realized that he had daydreamed all through Snape's latest report. The Dark Lord was just giving praise of his work.

"Well done, Severus, well done. Continue to please me and you will be rewarded most satisfactorily. Now, enough business for one night." Voldemort sneered, looking purely terrifying. "I feel most grieved for keeping you all away from your families on such a significant night. However, I have a little Christmas present for you all, my dear friends." Voldemort waved his wand at one of the doors behind him. The opened automatically, and the room was filled with screams once again.

Peter craned his neck to see who was making all the noise. Two Dementors were entering the room, guiding a very frightened Muggle family – a man, a woman, and two little girls who looked to be around six or seven. The children were crying, but their parents – under the power of the Dementors, no doubt – seemed unable to comfort them.

"A local Muggle family, from a village just at the other end of the forest. I believe they decided to go caroling, and got lost in the woods," Voldemort informed them, red eyes glittering insanely through his hood. "It was lucky that we found them."

The Death Eaters laughed and jeered at this. They seemed to grasp what their master was telling them.

"I hope you all have a Happy Christmas, loyal friends." Voldemort said dryly. "Have fun with them."

o-o

Hours later, the poor Muggles had been passed around the circle. Horrible, unmentionable atrocities were preformed. Unforgivables were popular choices of the Death Eaters', especially some very sick variations of the Imperius Curse. Peter had often found himself unable to watch the persecution that his companions were putting the Muggles through. Once or twice, he was even hoping that the parents would eventually break and die, just so that they would be spared the pain of watching their daughters tortured.

Peter realized that he shouldn't be feeling this way. Muggles were filth, Muggles needed to be disposed of. And coming up with creative ways to go about this was supposed to be fun for him. But… as Peter watched Bellatrix Lestrange Imperius the mother to beat her youngest daughter, he couldn't help feeling that the two should be put out of their misery.

When one of the girls – the older daughter – was passed to Peter, he was taken a little by surprise, and not sure what to do.

"Master, what would you like me to do with her?" He asked Voldemort.

Voldemort answered, "Amuse me, Wormtail."

Peter looked back at the girl. She was bleeding, bruised, and tearstained. One of her legs had cracked. Her hair had been ripped out by the ends. The girl's clothes were ripped and torn, having been pulled off and back on by some of the gruffer, more twisted Death Eaters. And she was whimpering on the floor, the stone muffling her voice. Peter could only hear snatches, a few words here and there – "Mumma", "Daddy", "Brittany", and "help".

Peter couldn't stand it any longer. He had to do something.

"_Avada Kedavra,"_ he muttered weakly. The girl lay still on the floor at his feet.

A howl from across the room told him that the child's father had seen everything.

o-o

"Tsk tsk, Wormtail," Voldemort said disapprovingly, silencing the man with his wand. "Was that the best you could do? You've ruined all our fun. And I know Fenrir was so looking forward to a sister act." Voldemort looked pointedly at the werewolf waiting for his turn with the younger girl.

"But you have three more left to amuse yourselves with," Peter shot back coolly.

o-o

He wasn't really sure how or where his courage came from. It certainly hadn't been there throughout his school life, when his friends had had to protect him from bullies. He hadn't had courage in his later years, either, when he was hiding out as a pampered pet rat. Peter had always been surrounded by brave people – there had been James, who had died to protect his wife and child; Sirius – he had risen up against his vile parents in favor of the way of the light; Remus, in his understated way, lived out every day of his life as an outcast and a reject – perhaps the bravest out of all of them.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You dare challenge me, Wormtail? I, who have been your doting, generous master for all these years? I, who have given you that splendid piece of machinery which you use as an arm?"

"Only after I've given you mine!" Peter cried. The whole room was quiet now. Even the crying Muggles had been silenced, whether by magic or just plain fear. Every eye seemed to be on Peter or Voldemort. "That's how you operate, is it? And eye for an eye, a hand for a hand!"

Voldemort drew his wand again and pointed it at Peter. "You know very well how I operate." He hissed threateningly. Then his voice became steadier. "Be careful, Wormtail. If you don't cease your ranting at once, I will have to quiet you myself. And I promise you, it won't involve a Silencing Charm."

Then, like a giant wave that crashed over him – Peter suddenly felt the painful, humbling realization. It was as if he had been asleep these past twenty years, and had finally woken up. _What_ was he doing here? Why – _why_ – had he chosen this path, when he had already had so many things in his favor – great friends, a good life! The Marauders had given everything for Peter, and how had he repaid them? By betraying them! By turning them over to a vicious murderer, one way or another! Peter was overwhelmed by the shame, angst, and grief that washed over him. James… Sirius… Remus… Lily… Harry… he had ruined them all. So many lives, so many futures, had been destroyed because of his mistakes. He had gone down a deep, dark, endless path of bloodshed and tears, of pain and secrecy, and had dragged his friends' happiness down with him.

And then – Peter laughed. What could he do now, except laugh? He was beyond crying, beyond tears. There was no hope left for him now. He had nothing.

o-o

And that was how Peter Pettigrew died – at the mercy of Lord Voldemort, completely powerless to stop him, like so many better, braver, nobler souls before him.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Come on, I know he's a rotten little bastard, but he's still a Marauder – and he reformed in the end (a little too late, though)!

Do you like? I have to say, I'm proudest of this chapter so far. Everything went pretty smoothly, for once. I guess I knew exactly how I wanted to kill Petey. Hehe.

Reviews are most appreciated!

LaRohaZeta


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